


To Wilfully Misunderstand and a Propensity to Hate Everybody

by ClaroQueQuiza



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, And you thought you were in deep, F/F, F/M, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, pride and prejudice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9485636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaroQueQuiza/pseuds/ClaroQueQuiza
Summary: Everyone knows that the rich and single rarely stay single for long.A Pride and Prejudice AU drabble, provoked/inspired bycouldbedauntless.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cantodelcolibri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantodelcolibri/gifts).



> So, _someone_ drew a Pride and Prejudice AU piece. Two of them, in fact, [here](https://dibujosdelcolibri.tumblr.com/post/156200420762/bingley-is-the-epitome-of-panic-in-front-of-the) and [here.](https://dibujosdelcolibri.tumblr.com/post/156419036272/actually-uses-references)
> 
> I wrote the bulk of this after the first one, so our headcanons have already diverged but IT'S TOO LATE NOW HAHA. :D

Everyone knows that the rich and single rarely stay single for long. When a new heir or heiress comes to town, every family immediately begins the lengthy process of convincing them that _their_ child is the one to make the best use of their fortune, for the paltry sum of connubial bliss.

 

So when Mr. Morrison heard tell of a most eligible young heiress coming into the country, he hastened home to inform his husband at once.

 

“Hey, dumbass, have you heard? They’ve finally rented out Netherfield Park.”

 

Mr. Reyes only grunted in reply. Mr. Morrison’s patience, already threadbare, was quick to give way.

 

“So do you want to know who’s rented it or what?”

 

“You want to tell me, don’t you? So tell me.”

 

“Tch. It’s a young woman, Miss Something Amari, of five or six thousand a year. She came up and saw it and took it immediately, and you know what that means? Independence, Mr. Reyes. The kids could get lucky after all!”

 

“What? The fuck? What’s this gotta do with the kids?”

 

Mr. Morrison fixed his husband with an icy blue stare. “Do we really have to get into this? This is why my blood pressure has been through the roof for twenty years, but you don’t care.”

 

“Mr. Morrison,” said Mr. Reyes with great aplomb, “your blood pressure’s the _only_ thing I care about. It keeps me up at night. I go to sleep with the cuff wrapped around your arm and the little squeezy ball in my hand. You wound me. Again,” he added, pointing to one of his myriad scars.

 

Mr. Morrison ignored him.

 

“You know what I’m talking about. She’s rich, she’s single, so she’s gotta be ready to mingle, and we’ve got kids of every persuasion to lock her down.”

 

“‘Lock her down’? Jesus, Morrison.”

 

Mr. Morrison continued as if he had not been interrupted. “We just have to get to her first. You need to go see her as soon as she gets here, and get her into the house so we can wine and dine her.”

 

Mr. Reyes rolled his eyes. “Such effluent poetry. It rolls off your silver tongue. But hell no.”

 

Mr. Morrison glowered. “Look, _Reyes_ ,”

 

“Look, _Morrison_ , I’m not about to go hunt down some woman and drag her into my house. You go. Take the kids with you. Or just chuck ‘em at her in the street, that’ll get your message across. Jesse could take it, you could bash his head against the pavement and he’d be up again spouting that bullshit that everyone seems to like.”

 

“Jesse _would_ be your first choice,” griped Mr. Morrison. “Even though he dresses like a western movie threw up on him. Angela’s got him beat in looks _and_ academics, and he’ll never be as popular with the boys or girls as Hana, but you always put him out there first to save our asses.”

 

Mr. Reyes shrugged. “You got to work with what you got. Jesse’s ridiculous and an ingrate, but he’s _our_ ridiculous ingrate. He can talk his way out of anything. Well,” he amended, “If everyone around him is stupid.”

 

“Whatever. Go and see Miss Amari when she gets here so we’ve got an in.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

-_-_-

 

Jesse was having the time of his life, for the second or third time that month. It wasn’t every day that he could convince all six of his family members to come to a good ol’fashioned hoedown, especially when he called it “a good ol’fashioned hoedown”, but while Hana, Lúcio, and Mr. Morrison couldn’t be dragged away from a ball and Angela was always game for a nice night out, Satya and Mr. Reyes usually couldn’t be bothered to come away from their strictly separated yet suspiciously similar workrooms.

 

Tonight, however, Satya was eager to show off her latest constructs, and Mr. Reyes was keen to see what his husband and children would think of the oft-talked-of _Miss Amari_ when she came to the ball. He had been one of the first to visit her when she came into the country, and to his delight he had been one of the only ones to see her before she had headed back to town to convince some friends of hers to come visit her in her new lodgings. He had steadfastly avoided anything but a vague description of “a fine gentlewoman” passing his lips during the agonizing wait for the ball, and Mr. Morrison, Hana, and Lúcio had been driven almost to distraction by his determined silence.

 

But now all their curiosity would be sated. The room suddenly hushed, and everyone was suddenly looking towards the entrance to the dancing hall. Jesse had been talking to Angela and his best friend, Sombra, and as the tallest among them by a wide margin, it fell to him to report on the small group making its way through the line dancers towards the vestibule reserved for the most highly ranked attendees.

 

There could be only one who was Miss Amari herself. She held herself in a rather rigid military posture despite her rather relaxed and elegant blue coat, with two golden pennants gleaming in her hair. At her side walked a tall, thin, pale woman, dressed in a white worked muslin dress that was of the highest fashion, her black hair swept back into an ornate French braid.

 

Jesse told all to his sister and friend until the group came into view, even when his attention was rather caught by the leader of the group. When she caught sight of him, Sombra punched his shoulder none-too-lightly. “When were you going to mention that _Mr. Shimada_ was here?!”

 

“Mr. Shimada?” grinned McCree as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

 

“ _Yes!_ Miss Amari is rich, sure, but Mr. Shimada makes at least twice as much, plus he owns half of Hanamura!”

 

Jesse studied Mr. Shimada. He was a good deal shorter than Miss Amari, but he had a fine figure, overlaid with a coat that, while a more somber shade of blue than his companion, was obviously of superior make that contrasted nicely with a high yellow collar and a golden hair ribbon that actually glittered in the light as it lightly fluttered below his inky black hair swept into a high ponytail. He had a handsome face, high cheekbones, dark eyes alight as they swept the bowing and curtseying crowd, but marred with an expression of almost studied misery, a frown creasing his lips.

 

He made brief eye contact with Jesse as he passed, which Mr. Shimada broke much too quickly, hurriedly looking away.

 

Jesse grinned slowly. “The miserable half?” he asked Sombra as the small entourage passed into the vestibule. “Cuz it sure don’ seem like it’s doin’ him any favors, smilin’-wise.” Sombra giggled while Angela hid a smile. Jesse’s grin widened when he saw Mr. Morrison waving at him over the heads of the crowd. “Welp, looks like Dad thinks we gotta go try and cheer him up, and Miss Amari, too, if we can. Let’s go, Angela.”

 

The introduction was supremely awkward. Mr. Shimada heard Mr. Reyes’ rather dispassionate presentation of his husband and Mr. Morrison’s more jovial and breathless naming of their children with equal indifference, though Jesse flattered himself with thinking he saw a small spark of interest in Mr. Shimada’s eyes as they bowed to each other. It was nothing to Miss Amari who, upon seeing Angela, seemed almost to stop herself from stepping forward to speak to her immediately. The other women was introduced as Miss Amari’s good friend, Mrs. Lacroix, who looked them over with a rather badly concealed critical eye.

 

Jesse was unsurprised to see Miss Amari make her way through the crowds a few minutes later and, with soft-spoken, pleasing politeness, enter into conversation with his elder sister. He contributed very little to the conversation after she came, content as he was to see Miss Amari stumble her way into flowing conversation with Angela.

 

“How do you like here in the countryside, Miss Amari?” asked Angela with a smile that many called charming, but to her was merely sincere.

 

Miss Amari appeared to take the former position, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she blurted, “Very much!”

 

Angela waited a polite amount of time for her to elaborate. Both women flushed as the silence went on a tick or two too long, so Jesse, smiling, said, “So, I heard the library at Netherfield is the finest in the country.”

 

Miss Amari brightened. “Ah yes, it fills me with guilt. I’m not a very good reader, you see. I prefer being out of doors.” She paused, then a flash of realization filled her eyes and she hastened to add, blush rising, “I-I mean, I can _read_ , of course, I, ah-” She foundered for a moment, looking down at the floor, thus missing Angela’s smile widen from merely sincere and charming to charmed, “A-and I’m not saying you can’t read out of doors, of course--um-!”

 

Angela came to her rescue almost unthinkingly. “I wish I read more, but there always seems to be so many other things to do!”

 

If Miss Amari seemed happy before her embarrassment, she was practically radiant as she exclaimed, “Y-yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I meant!”

 

At that moment, Jesse’s attention was caught away from the conversation by the sight of Mr. Shimada sidling up to the small group, stopping just short of joining them, hovering behind Miss Amari as if to listen to what she said but otherwise not intruding. Jesse took the opportunity to study his countenance, noting the grey fans that swept back from Mr. Shimada’s temples and how they leant him an air of distinction that went beyond his fine dress and severe expression.

 

Distracted as he was, Jesse’s first indication that Miss Amari has asked Angela to dance was their sudden absence. He saw them standing up together in the line and out of instinct searched for his fathers in the crowd, smiling to see Mr. Morrison’s own broad grin and Mr. Reyes’ unimpressed expression. He turned to see that Mr. Shimada has moved closer, as if intending to speak with him, but no words passed his lips. In silence they watched Angela and Miss Amari go up and down the line.

 

At last, itching to join in the fun if at all possible, Jesse turned to Mr. Shimada and asked, “Do you dance, Mr. Shimada?”

 

“No,” came the decisive answer. “Not if I can help it.”

 

Jesse was too controlled to physically reel back from such an austere answer in the midst of all the merriment swirling around them, but he did fall rather uncharacteristically silent. He glanced from Mr. Shimada to the dance and back again, at a loss for words.

 

Out of the crowd appeared Sombra, and he immediately stepped forward to greet her. At the same moment, Mrs. Lacroix came up to Mr. Shimada and Jesse heard her say, at a volume that bespoke privacy but at a pitch that cut through the noise, “We are a long way from Grosvenor Square, are we not?” Sombra, feeling fatigued, dragged Jesse away to find some quiet spot to rest and talk before he could hear Mr. Shimada’s reply.

 

They found a place below a stand of benches stacked high to accommodate the crowd. Before they could exchange many words, however, the music built to a crescendo and the audience burst into applause. As they waited for the noise to die down, Jesse spied Mr. Shimada and Miss Amari walk in front of the benches and pause within earshot.

 

“I’ve never seen so many lovely people in all my life!” gushed Miss Amari as she tossed her hair, causing her pendants to swing wildly.

 

“You were dancing with the only pleasing person in the room,” answered Mr. Shimada. Jesse felt his lips quirk at the deep and gravelly sound of his voice before the words registered.

 

Miss Amari was prompt with her praise. “Oh, she is the most beautiful girl I have beheld!” She paused for a moment, long enough for Sombra to flash a double thumbs up at Jesse. Miss Amari continued, “But her brother Jesse was _very_ agreeable!” Jesse preened for a split second before Mr. Shimada’s reply cut it off.

 

“Perfectly--tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting your time with me.” Miss Amari gave him a goodnatured punch on the shoulder before she returned to the dancing hall, and Mr. Shimada wandered off elsewhere. Jesse sat back and pouted.

 

“‘Tolerable’? _Tolerable?_ Fuckin’ dick.”

 

Sombra couldn’t help but laugh. “Ouch! Well, consider this: if he liked you, you’d have to talk to him, and from what I saw of him earlier, that’d probably be the worse torture, because you’d have to carry on the conversation all by yourself.”

 

Jesse felt his irrepressible good humor rise again. “Ain’ that the truth. As it is, I wouldn’ give ‘im the time of day for all of Hanamura, much less a miserable half.”

 

Despite his words, Jesse soon found himself back with Angela and Miss Amari and, to his surprise, Mr. Shimada, who approached once more. Jesse had come to moderate the heavyhanded approach of Mr. Morrison, who, upon seeing his eldest daughter dance a second time with Miss Amari, had taken it upon himself to sing Angela’s praises, to her visible consternation. Rather awkwardly, Mr. Morrison chose to begin with the tale of Angela’s last suitor.

 

“She was a fine lady, very well educated, very well read,” he recounted, looking at Angela with a lopsided smile and missing Miss Amari’s slipping smile. “She was caught immediately by my Angela’s beauty, not that I blame her. She is _the_ beauty around her, ask anyone. She inspired some very nice poetry, you know--”

 

Seeing Miss Amari’s growing panic, Jesse hastened to add, “And that killed any love of Angela’s stone dead! Awful stuff, poetry, just the thing t’send anybody with sense packin’.” He had the satisfaction of seeing relief sweep over Miss Amari’s face when Mr. Shimada spoke.

 

“I thought that poetry was the food of love.” Jesse was surprised at his rather earnest tone, but he answered readily.

 

“Oh, maybe, if it’s a good stout love. ‘Everythin’ nourishes what is strong already,’ and all that. Pour the whiskey on a sapling and watch it wither and die. Pour whiskey on a big ol’ elm tree and it’ll thank ye kindly.”

 

He thought he saw a flash of amusement in Mr. Shimada’s eyes. “So what do you recommend, to encourage affection?” he asked.

 

Jesse smiled wide. “Dancin’.” He briefly considered, but threw caution to the wind. “Even if yer partner is only ‘tolerable’.” His smile widened minutely at Mr. Shimada’s overly schooled expression that did not entirely mask his surprise before he bowed, turned, and swaggered away, keen to tell Sombra that he had already managed to settle the score.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit (14/02/17): [THE SAGA CONTINUES](https://dibujosdelcolibri.tumblr.com/post/157252116432/claroquequiza-screw-u-theres-this-fic-that)


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